Box of Rain
by Lucie - or Lux
Summary: Perhaps it was something in the blood of that particular family. Or perhaps it was merely circumstance. She would never be able to explain it later, but at the time, it felt exactly right. One-shot, original KelBaird.


****

Box of Rain

* * *

What do you want me to do,

to do for you to see you through?

Is this all a dream we dreamed

one afternoon long ago?

-

A box of rain will ease the pain

and love will see you through

it's just a box of rain

like a moth before a flame...

- Box of Rain, Grateful Dead_

* * *

_ It was only once, after all. 

She had gone to ask after Neal – he had been away for some time and she'd had no news of him. She'd asked Dom as well, but he'd been less than helpful, more interested in telling her about the new drills the Own was trying and Elayna, his latest ladylove. She'd been bored to the edge of lassitude with his tales (she had heard them all at least twice already that week) and went in search of Duke Baird. No doubt he would have some word, and even if he didn't, should she pass out in a delayed reaction to Dom's tedious stories, he would be able to revive her.

Neal's father was not in his examining room, nor his waiting room, where she had met him before in the times Neal had taken her to him for healings, but a friendly young university student was working at the desk in the waiting room and told her to try Baird's personal office. He gave her instructions, and she headed off in the direction he had indicated.

Arriving at the door marked "His Grace Duke Baird of Queenscove, Chief Healer of the Realm and Royal Consultant", she knocked quietly, slightly taken aback by the auspicious titles on the door. She had felt comfortable enough in the past to talk causally with Duke Baird; he was her best friend's father, had healed her numerous times after fights as a page, and had helped establish the infirmary at New Hope. For some inexplicable reason, however, today she felt different.

Until he opened the door.

He was tall – taller than Neal, the insufferably candid part of her mind told her – with reddish brown hair combed neatly back – unlike Neal, her mind insisted on pointing out. She silently commanded her mind to stop telling her things she already knew, and stifled a smile. It seemed that every male member of this family had the same nose.

"Keladry," he offered her a warm smile, "it's good to see you. Won't you come in?"

She accepted, and allowed herself to be ushered into a comfortable study outfitted with brimming bookshelves and understated furnishings and was presented with a cup of tea almost before she knew what had happened.

"Now," he asked, after positioning her in a large armchair near the fire and taking a seat opposite, "what can I do for you?"

The room seemed very warm suddenly, and she was overwhelmed by an odd fluttering feeling in her stomach. Her forehead creased of its own volition, and when she opened her mouth to answer, nothing came out.

He looked at her curiously. "Are you alright, my dear?"

My dear.

When she didn't answer – she was trying not to say something that would sound incredibly foolish and childlike and out of place – he stood and walked towards her.

She was caught in those dark green eyes – darker green than Neal's eyes. Stop it, stop it. Stop thinking about Neal. It didn't seem appropriate in this situation, somehow. Ironic, when he was the reason she had come here in the first place.

He held out a hand to her – perhaps intending to heal whatever he assumed to be wrong with her – but it stopped short of her shoulder. She was frozen, caught in time, as his hand reached up to tuck a stand of hair behind her ear. He left his hand near her face, just touching her cheek, for what seemed like eternity but was probably only a moment.

The next thing she knew, his lips were covering hers and she was wildly wondering who had kissed whom first, and what would happen if anyone walked in at that moment. His large hands cupped her face and he smelt of eucalyptus and juniper and the taste of his kisses made her throat ache and her body tingle with pleasure.

And when he reached for the lacings on her tunic, she forgot to think, and lost herself in the warm longing and unquenchable desire.

* * *

_A/N:_

Now, how do I explain what I just wrote? The truth of the matter is, I cannot, because I'm not sure what I did myself.

I actually sat down planning to write something entirely different, a Kel/Neal or something, and then this came out. I don't know where it came from, so don't ask me that either. However, I am rather pleased with myself. I thought this worked out rather well, for a completely random pairing. Does that make sense?

Now that I've sufficiently confused you, I will proceed to beg for reviews.

Please?!?


End file.
